Behind Locked Windows
by Mezzy-Ku
Summary: AU-Heero is an orphan child living in an orphanage that might also be considered a prison. As he grows older, it becomes progressively less likely for him to find a home...will he survive this place worse than hell?


Disclaimer: I've said it before and now I know I have to say it again…-sigh- No. I don't own Gundam Wing. I don't own any Gundam related things except a deck of cards which I DO own (and love!). I don't claim to own this show and do not want to be sued. Thanks for understanding.J

A.N.: This is AU, just so you understand this, and is good if you want a fairly short fic to read shown through Heero's perspective ^-^ But I want to make this warning clear: It is quite angsty throughout almost all of the fic and if you're weak in mind or something, you might want to not read it. Also, if you are going to read this I make this suggestion that you really should read it through to the end in one go for full effect. And without further adieu, here it is—hope you enjoy!

Behind Locked Windows 

****

The walls, smelling of must and urine, looked even plainer than they usually did this day. I was sitting in my room in the orphanage and staring at the walls as usual as I sat to think. It was a depressing train of thought, one that I thought I wouldn't be getting off of. Today, though, was what we called "zoo" days. People who wanted to adopt a kid could come here on Sundays and look at us all lined up. They would chose the one they liked best and that would be done with. 

No one ever chose me, though; I don't think they saw me as cuddly and cute enough. I was fine with that; I wouldn't want to live with people who thought of me that way. Besides, people seemed to like younger children, usually babies. A seven year old was already to "aged" for their liking; by eight you were almost beyond hope. Some of the older kids, "elders" as we called them, would tell us stories of the orphanage among other things. They weren't much older than I was and I would soon be old enough to join them, that wasn't necessarily considered a good thing, though 

I knew it wasn't a good orphanage that I was in, but I was in no position to complain. I would probably be worse off on the streets and would have even less of a chance of getting adopted. People would stare at me there like an animal, too. I just wish I could live with a family.

I never knew what happened to my parents but I did know that I had no memory of them. Though there was this faint remembrance of a sweet woman who tickled my foot…but it could have been a dream I had just the same. Whether they abandoned me or died, it really didn't make a difference. I was here and there were only two ways out: adoption or suicide. Although, a bunch of kids have been known to die from diseases they caught here. 

A knock came at my door as one of the staff opened it and motioned me to come out. It was time for the line up. Sometimes I didn't even get called for the zoo. If a young boy didn't fit the description of any of the people here who wanted to adopt a kid, I stayed in my room, also known as a cage. 

I wasn't exactly well educated—any learning we had involved outdated movies and books that weren't all that great either—though I had seen things that allowed me to give proper names to my settings with help from other people here. If I ever told our staff (or slave masters) our nicknames for things, I would get a good bunch of lashes. They use a long metal staff and whip us with it as punishment. If we're lucky, we just miss one of our meals consisting of gruel, more gruel, and imitation gruel. 

Anyway, as I followed my "master" to outside my room, I met up with this baka with hair too long for any guy I've seen. His name was Duo and kids here could always count on him to keep spirits up. Staff members have tried to cut his hair, but after many attempts involving him screaming and wailing and kicking wildly, just left his tattered braid alone. He started chattering away about nothing much in particular to anyone who was dumb enough to listen as we were lead to the zoo area. 

Once there, we saw excited faces looking us over and whispering to people beside them. This one young couple was staring in my direction, though it might have been to the kid beside me. They whispered to each other as smiles appeared on their faces and then motioned one of the staff over. As much as I always tell myself not to get excited, I couldn't help it as my heart started to quicken its pace. In a matter of minutes, the kid beside me was leaving the orphanage. 

After a while, all the kids that were meant to be chosen were, and the rest were sent back to their rooms. On the way, the braided one muttered in a merry voice about, "Next time someone will come who will adopt us and we will be gone from here until one day we return to adopt our own kids!" The fool thought that all children came from orphanages. I knew better; a few of the more immature staff members thought it would be fun one day to desensitize some of the young children. They did a good job at what they set out for; the thought sickened my 5-year-old mind for at least a month. 

A few weeks later, on a Wednesday, something that more rarely happens occurred. Some people came to the dorm rooms—what the staff call it, though we call it the cage area—to look for a child. The staff try to stop people from doing this, being ashamed of their poor funding, of course not the kids' conditions, but it happens every now and then. The people that came were an odd couple; one wore all black with a collar of white and a cross necklace dangling from his neck and the other, a woman, dressed also in all black but with white above her head and below her neck. 

They said they were looking for a kid to raise in their church (whatever that was), one with spirit, they added. Their eyes fell on Duo and they immediately made their choice. They said they could see much spirit in him and he would liven up the place. If only they knew how much, Duo was known for his pranks. As he walked towards the doors leaving the cage area, I finally realized how much he added to our poor family. I knew I would miss that brown haired baka.

Months later, my birthday came up. The elders gave me their deepest condolences for still being here now that I have turned eight, along with whatever presents they could possibly give. The extra serving of gruel wasn't very appreciated and I thought Lucreczia could have enjoyed it more; she was becoming too skinny, though some of us believed she was trying to kill herself through starvation. The teddy bear given to me by one of the oldest of our elders was unexpected, though. She said she always liked me, but couldn't tell why, and that she thought she had finally grown too old for them. I thanked Une, or Lady, as most of us called her for some reason. The rest of my presents were nothing to stand out in my mind.

The day after my birthday was a depressing one. It was a Saturday and I knew what awaited us the next day. As I stared at the teddy bear—an eye was missing and it had many stains covering it—I couldn't help but get the hopeless feeling I really would be here forever like Lady. We weren't quite sure what happens when you get too old to stay here but we thought it was nothing good. We figured we would be thrown into the streets with only our own belongings and one meal of gruel. 

Eight really did seem like an old age now; I had experienced all aspects of this orphanage and had heard all the stories. I also knew what to do to get along best with the staff and what never to do. I would pretty soon be considered an elder, though amongst themselves they were known as "the hopeless". That I knew that was a sign I would soon be one of them, too. 

One story seemed to be popping out in my mind as I sat staring at the poor, old teddy bear. It was a girl who had come here and had left within a week, one of the luckier ones. I wasn't quite sure how to feel about the story; it made me happy and sad at the same time. Her name was Hilde and she was about my age. She was thrown into here after her parents died in a car accident. She cried straight for a whole day, at least, and had frequent outbursts of tears for days after that. On the seventh day, a more elderly couple saw her and you could tell by the look on their faces that she broke their hearts. They adopted her and felt that they had really helped one of the worst off children. It was funny, or irony, as the elders called it, she was what most of us would consider one of the better off ones. 

The next day went like most Sundays; a wonderful time where our spirits were crushed more and are hope seemed to fly out the barred windows. I stood in the line up and watched as younger kids were chosen. Each time someone was chosen I felt this strange clenching feeling in my heart. I started wondering if I was sick. I wasn't about to tell the staff, though; stories stop all of us from going to have our health checked. We had our usual depressing walk back to our cage area without the uplifting Duo telling us it would be next time we got chosen. It's rare to come across kids who don't just hold on to hope, but give it to others as well.

I got hold of this book one of the elders let me read, not many of us actually could read but I had eventually picked it up. It was this pretty boring book but I liked the ending: "And they lived happily ever after." The elders said it was a fairy tale and was fiction, meaning it was made up. The idea of the ending allowed my spirit to rise for about an hour before I started feeling even worse than usual. A beautiful princess; that was someone I would never find to live happily ever after with. I gave the book back after some time with a thank you and vowed never to read a book with a happy ending again unless I was sure I would have one myself. 

I was given another book soon after—the elders were trying to make me more learned to be one of them—that was more to my liking. It was about this soldier who had no emotions and won a war against the enemy. I started wondering what it would be like to be that soldier; one with feelings hidden away and bravery to match all the bravest in this orphanage combined. It didn't say he lived happily ever after, but I started thinking that he would. Why wouldn't someone who did what he did be allowed happiness? Someone like me didn't deserve to be happy. I had no reason to be happy, I didn't deserve to be happy…I took a turn for the worse soon after reading that book. 

A week later I had stopped eating completely, saying anyone else deserved the gruel given to us a lot more than me. I would sit curled up in my cage, no, palace! For me, this room, this sheltered, fairly well in temperature, almost cozy room was too good. I would stop myself from thinking anything that might make me happier or feel better, or even take my mind off things the way they were. I didn't deserve to have happy thoughts. I really didn't deserve anything. And so I became one of the elders.

It took much great effort on the other elder's part to convince me that anyone, including me, deserved much better than this. They told me that I shouldn't let the slave masters—or dictators, the elder's term for them—see that they have broken my spirit and won. They had to practically pour the food down my throat with some of them holding my mouth open to get any of the gruel down. One of the other hopeless, Miliardo, even got into a fight with me over something trivial and actually helped get some stress removed. Soon, I was back to my usual self; depressed and hopeless, but living.

The lucky—the elder's term for my former peers—started to really look up to me. I had come to teach them, with inspiration from the book about the soldier I read, how to not show their emotions, a technique that I was starting to master. I told them that was the only way to become the perfect soldier. My co-elders approved of my new ways and I soon rose high into their rankings; there was a whole society amongst the approximate hundred of the elders. Being an elder was almost enough to give me a better outlook on life and make me feel better. Almost. With time my mood fell along with the sands of time. Soon I was just as depressed as I had ever been. I wasn't as bad as when I had thought myself undeserving of things, but I felt any shred of hope I still had had ripped off and flaked away from my heart. 

The elders knew there was nothing to do to really help this; it really was a miracle to be adopted at the age of an elder and that was the only thing to save me. The lucky tried to cheer me up; they said I was showing too much emotion by looking so depressed all the time. I had to use any will power I still had to not tell them the hopelessness of life. With time I found myself becoming skinnier; I had slowly started eating less and less at my meals, claiming I was full, which I really felt I was. My moss green hair seemed to be becoming thin and brittle and I was pretty sure I was finding gray hairs. I had bags under my eyes from many nights where I stayed up wondering if I would die if I fell asleep. I was becoming what the elder term for loss of all hope on this reality was; a wishful, meaning I wanted to leave this life. Murmurs of suicide rose as an option for an escape, though none of the other hopeless told me that to my face. Eight years old and planning the best way to die; I think I might have finally been learning what the term "irony" meant. 

A beautiful day some time soon after my ninth birthday, a miracle finally occurred. Sunbeams were actually seen shining through our almost invisible windows and the faint noise of birds singing was quite pleasant to hear. None of that was what finally gave meaning to my life, though; an angel walked through the doors to the cage area with her parents that day. 

I knew my face was so hollow that I must have been a scary sight but not to this angel. I thought she was what I once would have thought was my age but she didn't look what I was used to people looking like. She looked…full of life; happy and with hope almost spilling out of her. Her honey colored hair was almost too bright to look at and she wore a pleasant pink outfit. When she looked at me my heart actually felt like it was beating; an odd sensation I hadn't seemed to feel for some time. The angel pulled on her mom's arm and pointed to me with a large smile present on her perfect face. Her mother glanced at me before shaking her head and moving on. Not the angel, though. She stayed watching my cage, my room; I felt it was at the moment. I felt ashamed for her to have to see how much of a mess it was. 

When she didn't move after her mother called her a few times, her parents joined her. After a few moments, a very stretched moment it felt like, her parents looked at each other with the same look and shrugged then nodded to the angel. She giggled, a rare sound to hear in the orphanage, and went quickly to get a staff member. When she pointed to me and said a few words to him he looked almost as shocked as I should have felt. My angel was setting me free.

They opened the door of my room and I felt like a leach had just been unfastened off my neck. I awkwardly stumbled towards her with tears being held back from my eyes. She laughed at me, not a mean laugh but an amused one, and helped me stand straight. She told me her name, Relena. Too beautiful a name for words. She explained that she thought I looked different than all the rest. She said I couldn't be left here alone whether she had to move here or not. Tears started to stream down my face. I was showing emotion, but I didn't care anymore. I remembered to glance at the rooms of my friends and they all looked so happy for me. Happy…for me! She took my hand and headed with her parents, my parents?, to get the adoption papers signed. I stopped for a second and ran back into my room to get my teddy bear. I gave it to her, somewhat embarrassed of its condition, and she smiled and thanked me deeply for it. It turned out she really liked teddy bears. I glanced one more time at everyone and gave them a nod before leaving them for good. I hoped this would give something much needed back to them all: hope. 

As my angel lead me to my freedom, I thought back again to the books I had read: One, the perfect soldier who beat the enemy, and two, the fairy tale with the happy ending. I then realized that I wasn't much different than the soldier; I had beaten my enemy, the orphanage, and hopefully brought at least some peace to all my friends. As for the fairy tale, well, maybe that would happen too. Perhaps I would marry this angel some day, marriage was something I had heard about once that I though I would never do. 

The adoption papers were signed and I was lead to the doors exiting the orphanage. Fresh air reached my lungs, which I felt I had never breathed before. Natural light was almost blinding to my eyes but it was too beautiful outside to let them stay closed. The angel took my hand again as we walked out into the waiting sunlight.

And they lived happily ever after.

Years later, I hadn't forgotten about everyone at the orphanage. The staff there would soon find a _very generous donation to the orphanage from a Mr. and Mrs. Yuy and all their children. There was also the demand that new, better staff members were hired and an endless supply of all types of books. They deserved their happy ending as well._


End file.
